It's A-VAH-dah Ke-DAH-vrah
by Finary Lane
Summary: Draco Malfoy despises the little upstarts running around calling themselves dark wizards these days. Especially when they can't even pronounce their curses right.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Little one-shot as if I don't have five other fanfics to write. Not beta'ed or anything. I just sat at my laptop and wrote for an hour and a half. Ta-da! Another HP fanfic to be lost in the ocean of HP fanfic...

**It's A-VAH-dah Ke-DAH-vrah**

by: Finary Lane

Harry and Ron apparated to St. Mungo's as soon as they got the call. Wands out and braced for a fight, they rushed to the hospital to arrest a minor group of dark wizards that had taken its occupants hostage. They had only been there a few minutes, but panic had caught on quickly from what they had heard through the phone. Harry wasn't overly worried though. After the fall of Voldemort, most dark wizards were dead or imprisoned. Little groups like these ones showed up every once in a while, but they were mostly descendants of Death Eaters that had a romanticized view of dark magic and nostalgia for traditions that were now illegal, such as the use of blood quills for signing contracts.

In fact, after Grindelwald, Voldemort and Voldemort's resurrection, dark magic had never been treated more delicately. The Wizarding World was sick of Dark Lords and enforced a strict light policy. Many books that had originally been in the restricted section of Hogwarts were moved to the Ministry of Magic for safekeeping and were near impossible to consult. The restricted section was afterwards filled with any book holding references to hexes and jinxes, no matter how minor. The only people who knew much of anything about curses had studied prior to the implementation of these policies, like Harry and Ron, or belonged to families that had somehow hidden their books from the Ministry.

Harry felt torn on the subject. On one hand, according to the new policies, Harry himself was a dark wizard because of some of the hexes he fought with. On the other, there were so few dark wizards these days that the Wizarding World had never been safer. And then things like this happened that threw people in a panic because, even though he doubted these new dark wizards were competent, no one knew how to react to dark magic. Defence Against the Dark Arts had become rather tame in its compliance to the Ministry. It reminded him of Umbridge's ridiculous class. But forming the D.A. in this day and age was practically suicide. Much too dark for the Ministry's taste.

That hadn't stopped Harry and Ginny from reviving it outside of Hogwarts' walls. The D.A. stood for Dumbledore's Army only in jokes. Many people had forgotten that D.A. stood for Defence Association and when the youth seemed to have forgotten the Jelly Legs jinx, it was no wonder that people were so vulnerable to magical attacks and that every recruit that came into Harry's office was seemed so utterly _incompetent._ So he started it up again, holding meeting only once a month with trustworthy folks.

He wondered sometimes why he did it. Did he want people to protect themselves better? Sure, but not just that. Did he think ignorance was terrible? Sure, but not just that. Did he think the Ministry was being idiotic? Absolutely. And that was it, wasn't it? After everything that had happened, _Umbridge'_s ideology was what the Ministry had stuck to. And, well, _screw Umbridge._ Harry really hasn't a more complex man than that.

They arrived at St. Mungo's a tad too late. Along the wall were four darkly clad figures bound in ropes typical of the incarcerous curse. They crept in, locking eyes with the small group, but unseen by the man standing in front of them. He was too far to see him properly, but could recognize the white garb of a healer.

"You sorry excuses for dark wizards," sneered a familiar voice, "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

Harry shared a look with Ron, who seemed to recognize that voice as well. After all, it had taunted him for the entirety of his school days.

"Malfoy?" called out Ron, somewhat in disbelief, but the mediwizard hadn't heard him. Or he was ignoring him.

They approached him silently, recognizing the telltale platinum blond air. It was definitely Malfoy. He knelt in front of one of the tied wizard, one that had particularly dark bags under the eyes.

"I'm no fan of your kind, Mr Burke. You come in and _disturb _my work and _my_ _patients._ And then you have the audacity to prance around as if you have any idea who the Dark Lord was when you can't even pronounce your spells correctly."

Ron made to intervene, but Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to see how this played out. He hadn't known Malfoy to confront dark wizards so blatantly. Something must have happened before their arrival to get him this riled up. Malfoy straightened himself out and looked down on the group that cowered in front of him.

"It's A-VAH-dah Ke-DAH-vra, not A-vah-DAH Ke-dah-VRA."

Harry couldn't help the strangled laughter that escaped his throat and had to muffle it with his sleeve. Ron looked so taken aback that Harry's frame was wracked with more laughter.

"Merlin," said Ron, "you sound like my wife!"

Malfoy turned towards them in a sort of half turn that allowed him to keep an eye on his prisoners. Smart man. He held his wand towards them for a moment before recognizing them and their uniforms and pointing it once again toward the tied men.

"Potter. Weasley." He raised an expectant eyebrow at them.

"Well?" his haughty voice called, "I've wrapped them up nicely for you, so do your job and take them away. I have _work _to get to and this ordeal has delayed all of my appointments by an _hour_."

He snapped his fingers irritably. Leave it to Malfoy to be worried about punctuality when getting attacked by dark wizards.

Harry eyed him. At Hogwarts, he had always seemed like a miniature Lucius Malfoy. But now… he seemed different than Harry had expected. Tired, a little, with slight bags under his eyes and a bit of barely noticeably stubble. His eyes were sharp, his fingers twitching on his wand from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins from the recent fight. His face was closed off, but Harry could see worry lines on his forehead. Because fighting these days was against _Ministry regulations._

Sometimes, Harry was glad that everyone had conveniently forgot that one time he used the Cruciatus curse. The Ministry was so uptight these days, they wouldn't bother with Azkaban, they would send him to Romania as dragon food. At least Charlie would probably appreciate it.

Harry had fought long enough for Malfoy's freedom that he wasn't going to sell him out now. Considering Malfoy's background, he would be _dead meat._

So he did as Malfoy asked and grabbed to of the wizards while Ron got the other two and apparated out without another word.

When they were finally gone, Malfoy let out a breath of relief. He hadn't been expecting that. Any of it. It was over, he would put it out of his mind until he headed home that night. Tucking away his wand in his pocket, he felt a slip of paper against his fingers.

He pulled out the mysterious, small business card that had found its way into his pocket.

* * *

You are hereby invited

to the

**Defense Association**

Meeting on

**May 14h**

at

**12 Grimmauld Place**

* * *

Draco watched the card set itself on fire and crumble to ashed between his fingers. He watched the pile on the ground for a moment before snorting to himself.

What a bunch of fools.

At least he would get to visit the place his mother had called home.


End file.
